Redemption
by Haddie Brice
Summary: What kind of woman would it take to change Gawain's life? Complete. Criticisms welcome!
1. Chapter 1 Rescue

**Chapter one has been completed in the new style.**

**This is as close to a Mary Sue as I've ever published. And this is probably as far as I'll go.**

**I don't own any of the characters except my own. Yadda, Yadda, so don't sue my penniless self!**

**Chapter 1 Rescue**

Darkness, and pain, and cold. That's all I had known for... Days? Weeks? I no longer knew, nor cared. All I knew was that Mamma and I had been captured in late summer and though it had always been cold in this hell hole, it had only recently become the bone aching, numbing cold of winter. All I had was my tattered summer shift, and that barely covered what it should.

I curled myself around my aching, dislocated knees and prayed for death to come quickly as I listened to skinny monks chant in Latin, the moans of my fellow prisoners, and the rattle of chains. Tears made new tracks through the grime on my face. I think. I couldn't feel so light a touch anymore.

I looked over at Mamma's decaying body, still lying in the cell with me. They hadn't bothered to pull the "witch" out after she'd died. I longed for the energy to be angry. At least if I was angry, maybe I could fight, even as badly as I hurt, I could fight. Lethargic hopelessness had crippled me far more than the beatings, rapes, and the most recent damage inflicted on my knees. And all had been done in the name of God. I knew these misguided monks were not of God. Mamma and I were not witches and our souls hadn't needed saving. Mine still had no need for salvation. For their version of salvation.

As I drifted in and out of consciousness, new sounds entered my cold, dark world. Footsteps, heavy ones, accompanied by the jangle and clatter of armor and the creak of leather bindings.

And light. I squinted against the light that had seemingly flared into sudden existence.

The head monk stopped chanting and began to whine and threaten the new comers, insisting that they were defiling the temple of God.

I choked. Temple of Satan, maybe. This was never a temple of the Most High.

New voices answered the monks. Angry male voices.

My heart hammered in my chest. They were speaking Briton. There was smattering of commonly used Latin, words, but the thought that worked in my brain was that I could understand them. The fat, piggish Roman, my captor spoke only highborn Latin when he visited to see if any of the prisoners had 'converted'.

I made an excruciating effort to sit up, pain shooting violently through various parts of my body with every slight movement. It was all I could no not to scream. If the new comers were not here to rescue, they need not know I still lived.

"Out of the way!" one of the new voices demanded. Then there was silence for a moment before he continued. "The work of your god. Is _this_ how he answers your prayers?"

"See if there are any still alive," a second voice said in calm answer to the first's veiled accusation.

I flinched at the sudden crash of metal against metal. The following squeak of little used hinges drowned out my whimper from the pain.

One of the new comers retched.

"How dare you set foot in this holy place!" one of the monks hissed, angrily.

There was a strange sound, followed by a death gurgle.

"That was a man of God!" the head monk cried.

I would have been violently sick, had there been anything in my stomach to come up. I shuddered at the unwanted memory of the things done to me in this 'holy place' by 'men of God'.

"Not _my_ god!" the first of the new voices shouted him down.

"This one's dead." the second voice spoke up, immediately followed by a third.

"By the smell, they're all dead."

"And you. You even move, you'll join him." said a fourth voice, younger than the others and sounding a bit shaken, right above me.

More metal clattered. "Arthur!" The third voice. He murmured something else after that, but I couldn't quite hear.

The flame of a torch whipped back and forth in front of my cell. As the light flickered over Mamma's rotting body, I tried to scoot myself closer to the opening and the flickering torch, but the pain made it impossible. The light bearer started to move away, having not noticed me huddled in the corner.

"Help me, please!" The sound of my own voice startled me. It more closely resembled the rasp of an old woman than the lilting voice of a young one.

The metal bars that covered my little piece of hell were moved aside and the face of a golden haired warrior appeared in the opening. His blue eyes glittered in the torch light. With a grimace, probably of disgust, he reached around Mamma to offer me a hand.

As I reached for it, I raised my face fully to the light.

He gasped. Surprised that he was rescuing an ill, broken girl instead of a battered, feeble, old crone? Maybe. Whatever the reason for his surprise, he wedged the torch into a gap in the wall, then reached out both hands to me.

I swallowed the screams and forced myself to move forward. _Father, God give me strength to do this!_

He lifted me into his arms, as easily as he would have a child, though he seemed to be doing so gingerly, in case I were injured.

He had no idea.

He reclaimed the torch, but was careful to hold it away from me so I would not get burned by the falling sparks.

I forced myself to look around the room that would haunt my dreams for the rest of my life.

In addition to the golden warrior who bore me, there were three other strange men. One, a large, frightening man with many scars and a shaved head was tenderly collecting a little boy into his arms as another man, with the bearing of a powerful man and dressed as a Roman soldier, lifted another woman, about my own age with the blue skin markings of a Wode, from the cold stone floor. The third man, with black, curly hair and cold, blue eyes, met my gaze with a dark, surly look. He held a sword in one hand and a torch in the other. A second sword was sheathed across his back.

The sword in his hand was bloodied. I followed the dark, wet stain on the floor by his feet, to the other that was slowly spreading from the crumpled looking heap of rags that had once been one of my tormentors. _Father, forgive me. I feel no remorse for his eternally damned soul._

The other two 'monks' were cowering by the archway that lead up and out to freedom.

"Can you walk?" The golden man holding me asked, quietly.

I shook her head against his shoulder. "My knees are out of place and will bear no weight." I didn't even bother to mention how much the rest of my body hurt every time I so much as twitched, and I didn't yet care to ponder the implications of what some of those pains might mean.

The dark man nodded and turned on the remaining two 'monks', herding them out of the hell hole by prodding them ahead of him with his bloody sword.

The Roman bearing the Wode woman followed, then the giant with the little boy. The young man who was carrying me followed last.

"Water! Get me some water!" I heard the regal Roman bellow, but I really didn't care. The sky, which I had not seen for a long time, was heavy with thick gray clouds and spitting snow, but it was still too bright for me, so I was actually seeing very little, shielding my eyes with my hands.

I did feel someone brush past us, then the golden warrior knelt slowly and set me gently on the ground.

"Here. Drink slowly." he whispered.

I did so willingly, though I was careful not to drink too much, too quickly. Even had I not heard my fellow prisoners coughing from trying to drink too greedily, I was raised in a wood wife's hut. I was a healer. Cold water. Empty stomach. Bad combination, especially when the drinkers were already dehydrated, ill, and injured.

I heard an exclamation over a broken arm, just out of my line of sight. "And his family?"

Silence.

_Father, is this why you brought me alive through this? So I can help them? But did it have to be so painful? Would I have been here otherwise?_

"She's a Wode." I heard someone mutter.

"Stop what you are doing!"

This voice I knew. This voice made me shudder. A whimper even escaped me as he began to shout and scream at everyone.

"What is this madness?" the man who had carried out the Wode girl demanded.

"They are all pagans here!"

_Speak for yourself._

"So are we." A young man, who was a darker version of my golden rescuer, replied with a slight sneer.

"They refuse to do the task God has set for them! They must die, as an example."

"You mean they refused to be your surfs!"

Steel scraped and rang as the Roman warrior shouted down my captor, but I was nearing my breaking point. My rescuer was still kneeling next to me. I whimpered in fear and hid my face against his armored shoulder. He had to feel my shaking, though I could not tell how much of that was from fear and how much was the cold. The hell hole's one good thing was the lack of wind and the gust that cut through my rags just then was _icy_. My breath hitched in my throat, making me hiccup.

I realized the shouting had stopped when he gently lifted me into his arms again and carried me to a wagon. Out of the wind and away from the threat of being returned to the hole, I managed to calm the shaking.

"My name is Gawain," he said softly. "What is yours?"

"Bree." I was suddenly very aware of my filthy, ragged, not to mention reeking state, and though it would do absolutely no good, I nervously she tucked some of by ash blonde, dirty stringy hair behind my ears.

"I must go now, Bree, but I will return. Soon."

"Wait!" I reached out and managed to weakly clasp the edge of his armor.

He looked at me, both surprised and curious.

"I hear the drums, and I know that the Saxons were on their way when I was captured. What direction are you taking to leave this valley?"

The Roman warrior stepped past us into the wagon, carrying the Wode. He was closely followed by the giant with the little boy, and a well dressed, Roman lady, probably my captor's wife. He was not going to be happy with her.

"Arthur?"

He gingerly placed the woman on a pile of furs, then stepped out into the swirling snow before looking to Gawain to explain himself.

"Her name is Bree."

The tone of respect and deference in the young man's voice confirmed what I had already suspected. He was the leader.

He gave me a slight bow by inclination of the head. "I am Arthur Castus."

"The leader of the famous Sarmation knights, defenders of the wall." I was not asking a question, even though he responded as if I had.

"Yes."

I startled him then, as I pulled enough of my old self together to meet his steely gray gaze. For a moment. Then my confidence shattered and my hands started to shake as I looked away.

"Why do you ask about our direction, Bree?"He sounded suspicious.

"Because I hoped to be of service. I'm a healer, skilled with herbs. My home is- was on the East trail. If you are leaving that way, I'd like to stop there and retrieve some herbs and things necessary for helping my fellow prisoners." I hesitated before plunging on. "And there are a couple things that I would be loathe to lose to the Saxons' fire."

"How did you know about the Saxons?"

He did not appear to be liking what I was saying.

I took the time to slowly draw a calming, deep breath. "My brother is a woodsman in these parts and further to the North, as far as the sea. He helped take down a small reconnaissance group of the barbarians last spring and by that, he guessed that they would soon try to invade again. He told us he would be back soon to let us know what was happening, then returned to the Northern coast. That was early Summer. In late Summer, my mother and I were accused of witchcraft and imprisoned." Movement over their shoulders drew my eyes out of the wagon and onto the scowling face of my captor as he climbed into another wagon.

The shaking instantly spread to the rest of my body. He'd never actually touched me in any way, but he had watched, and occasionally directed the 'monks' to do... Things.

Arthur looked where I was looking, and scowled.

The highborn Roman scrambled into his wagon. His son followed hesitantly.

The leader of the Sarmation knights turned back to face me. "One of my men found a clear trail to the East. I believe we may be able to stop briefly, but Bree, you must hurry and gather your things. You will only have minutes."

"Yes, Sir. I understand. I will need someone to pop my knees back into place and bring me some sticks to lean on."

Arthur called over the giant. "Dagonet, this is Bree,"

The large man looked briefly at me and nodded.

"She is a healer, in need of some healing herself, but she'll help as much as she can." the Roman warrior turned back to me. "Dag is a man of few words, but a good man. He and the lady will help you until we are moving. I will return once we are and set your knees before we reach your home."

I nodded, my fingers absently trying to find more loose strands if hair to smooth into place.

Arthur turned and strode away leaving Gawain standing next to me.

His blue eyes glinted with unvoiced emotion. "I'll come and help him, then take you home." He hesitantly moved his hand, as if to touch my cheek, then drew back suddenly and turned to follow in the wake of his commander.

I wondered if he had noticed me flinch, but he was gone before I could utter a single word of thanks.

Dagonet carefully moved me to a pile of furs so the wagons could get moving.

We had not been rolling long before Gawain and Arthur returned.

"How is he?" Arthur asked the giant.

"He burns." was the frank reply. Then tenderly, "Brave boy."

"I may need your help a moment."

Dagonet nodded.

Gawain laid a pair of crutches near the opening of the wagon and carefully maneuvered around the small boy and the Wode woman to where I sat, now wrapped in furs, my hair tamed into a single braid.

Arthur was kneeling before me, gingerly prodding and feeling one of my knees. I knew he was trying to figure out the damage and how best to pop it back into place, but it was all I could do to keep that thought in mind. He looked up and straight into my eyes. "Bree, this will hurt. A lot. Do you need something to bite down on?"

I shook my head and purposefully gritted my teeth, my nostrils flaring as I carefully breathed only through my nose.

"Gawain, get behind her for support."

He knelt behind me and gently slid my body against his.

To force myself past the panic of being surrounded by so many men, I reached over my shoulders and found the edges of Gawain's breastplate. I then gripped them with all the strength I could muster.

"Dag."

"Yes, Arthur?"

The Roman commander gently adjusted his grip on my leg and nodded to the other. "If we can set both knees at the same time it will hurt more, but shorten the experience."

The large man nodded in agreement and knelt opposite Arthur, gently fingering my other knee before also settling into a preparatory grip on my leg.

Arthur met my gaze again. "Ready?"

"Yes!" I hissed through gritted teeth.

Gawain and Dag gave him affirming nods.

"On three. One. Two."

I squeezed my eyes tightly shut.

"Three."

I felt myself scream. I felt the scrape and crunch of joints popping back into place.

Then darkness swallowed me and carried me away from the pain.


	2. Chapter 2 Refugee

******Chapter two has been completed in the new style.**

**This is as close to a Mary Sue as I've ever published. And this is probably as far as I'll go.**

**I don't own any of the characters except my own. Yadda, Yadda, so don't sue my penniless self!**

**Chapter 2 Refugee**

I was unconscious only a short while. When I opened my eyes, Gawain and Arthur were wrapping cloth bandages around my knees to support them while they healed. I steeled myself to hide all signs of the pain that shot through my lower abdominal regions as my shaky fingers drew the fur wrap back around myself. I slowly sat up.

Gawain handed me a water bladder.

I only took a couple, tentative sips before returning it.

"Ready?" he asked.

I nodded, still unable to fully trust my voice to not betray my pain.

"Have you ridden a horse before?"

"Not properly."

All the men looked at me with curious expressions.

I exhaled and I clasped my fingers together to keep from tucking nonexistent loose stands of hair behind my ears again. "My mother and I were accused of witchcraft. When the Roman soldiers came to take us away from our home, they tied our hands behind our backs and put us, bellies down, over the fronts of their saddles."

Gawain nodded, as if this had confirmed something. "You'll ride with me, but we'll go as slow as we dare." He grinned warmly. "Hopefully this experience will be better than the last." Then he was moving towards the back of the wagon.

Before I could move to follow him, Arthur had gingerly scooped me into his arms.

"I can walk now." I tried to protest.

"But should you?"

"No, I suppose I should not." I sighed. "Only I had hoped to appear more resilient."

The Roman warrior chuckled at that.

Gawain disappeared through the flap, taking the crutches with him.

From the leader's arms I watched him tie down them across the back of a pack horse before leaping easily into the saddle of his own. Once settled. He looked up and reached for me.

Arthur gently passed me into the golden warrior's grasp without them stopping the wagon. I was settled sideways in front of Gawain and he was helping me to adjust my fur wrap when another of the Sarmation knights rode up.

"Arthur."

"Tristan."

"I found a narrow foot path, leading off of the main road. I followed it and found a small cottage. There was a Healer's Rune carved into the doorpost."

The leader looked to me for confirmation.

I nodded. "Yes, that is where I grew up."

The new knight was watching me through a curtain of light brown hair. The strange tattoos on his face made him look fierce, and his brown eyes glinted dangerously.

I leaned away from his scrutiny, harder against Gawain. If any of them noticed, they said nothing of it.

"We'll hurry." Gawain assured the others, then pressed a pair of leather straps into my hands. "Hold on to him?"

I realized that they were the reigns for the packhorse. I had no idea what he thought I would try to salvage from my old life, but I was determined that it would be very little.

He set the horse at a brisk walk and we soon out distanced the rag-tag group.

I relished the quiet stillness of my forest. This had been my side of the mountain for my whole life, but I knew I had to leave it behind. So I closed my eyes and tilted my face to the sky. I wished it all farewell.

I opened my eyes and all my senses stretched to collect as many treasured memories as possible. The trees, though bare of their leaves, spread their arms welcomingly, and the smell of rich, moist earth, twinged with frost was just as comforting as a hearth fire. I breathed deeply and hungrily of the free, fresh air. I knew the call of each bird and the creak of the wind through bare branches was like sweet music. In that moment I could have almost forgotten the pain that knifed through my body with every step the horse took.

"This blasted silence is enough to drive a man mad!"

I couldn't help it. I laughed. "Well, it certainly is no longer silent."

"I suppose you are used to this." He gestured generally to the trees.

I gripped the reigns more tightly. "Is there no silence south of the wall?"

"Not in the fort or nearby village. There's nearly always the sounds of people and animals coming and going. Then there's the wind. He howls around the corners and rattles the shutters at all hours, but especially at night when you are trying to sleep."

I tried to shrug. "I suppose you are used to it."

Gawain's hearty laugh had a pleasant sound to it. "I will have to stay on guard with you around, Bree. You are a clever one."

"I think that was a compliment…"

He laughed again. "That was how I intended it."

"Then I thank you."

As the silence settled over us again, I felt that there was more he wished to ask or say. I waited, twisting the reigns to keep my hands off of my hair.

He finally found the words. "You are the quietest girl I have ever met, even when you're in pain."

I twisted too quickly to face him in my surprise. "How-?" The pain made me gasp and proved his point.

"I can tell." I could feel his eyes on me as he spoke. "I live with men who think admitting pain of any kind is a weakness. I'm not the one who puts them back together after a battle, Dagonet is. I'm better at destroying things than I am at fixing them, but I can tell when someone's in pain. You hide it well, maybe even from Arthur, but Dag will see it. I see it, Bree."

"Then pray to God that I still have the herbs I need." I whispered.

Gawain's voice was barely recognizable when he spoke again. "I don't pray to things that are not there."

The cold edge to his words cut at my heart. "I am very sorry you think that. I'll pray that something changes your mind."

I do not know if he would have continued the discussion. He raised his hand and pointed to a narrow path that turned away from the main road. "There?"

I nodded. "Yes."

We turned onto the trail and were swallowed up by the forest.

"Why did you become a healer?"

I composed my thoughts for a moment before answering him. "I suppose at first because my mother was one. Then I learned that with my knowledge I could help people be whole and healthy; that I could ease people's pain. After that, it became all I wanted to do."

"What about your father?" Gawain asked. "I've heard you speak of your mother and brother, but never your father."

My stomach knotted. "Dead. Before I was born."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm not." The knot twisted.

Gawain flinched. Perhaps he was surprised by the anger in my voice.

I felt that I should better explain. I drew a deep breath. "He was a murderer. My brother killed him to rescue Mamma and to avenge his father."

"How old was your brother?"

"Twelve."

"That is hard. I was not much older myself when I fought in my first battle, though it was far less personal." He hesitated a moment. "You do not have to tell me, but I would like to know what happened."

A wisp of hair actually had escaped this time. I sighed and tucked it back behind my ear. "The last time the Saxons tried to invade, they murdered nearly everyone in a small fishing village. A few people escaped, including my brother, but his father was murdered while trying to protect Mamma. The Saxon leader recognized her value as both an attractive woman and a healer, so he claimed her as spoils of war. Only my brother dared to return to rescue her. He succeeded and once she was safe, went back to help drive out the invading army. When the Saxons were gone, he and Mamma came here to start over, but Abelard had the wanderlust. He became a woodsman and his territory is from here, East, West, and North as far as the sea. He resented me for a while, until he was old enough to see that I was what had kept Mamma sane after what those Saxon dogs did to her."

Gawain was quiet for several minutes. He sounded hesitant when he did finally speak again. "How many people know of your linage?"

"Mamma, Abelard, me, and now you. Unless someone needs help, forest healers are looked down on and scorned as it is, so how much more would I have had to endure if people knew that I was half barbarian? So Mamma never corrected anyone when they assumed my father was her dead husband."

The trees suddenly thinned into a small clearing. Home. The cottage was as it always had been, nestled into the back of the clearing with a lean too shed on one side and a barn on the other. A row of narrow gardens ran around the edge of the forest, leaving most of the space for the yard.

But something felt off. I looked around again. The gardens had been weeded and covered with leaves, moss and twigs the way Mamma and I always did for the winter, but we had been taken during harvest time. The shutters on all the buildings had been closed and fastened down, but Mamma and I had been taken mid day.

"What is it?" Gawain asked, having caught the look of confusion on my face.

"We were taken in late summer. There's no sign of the mess the soldiers left and everything's been winterized. It looks like Mamma and I never left."

Gawain was on the ground in seconds, his sword ringing as he drew it from its sheath. "Stay there. If anything happens, I want you to ride away, as fast as you can get the horses to go."

I nodded and gripped the reigns tighter.

He checked the barn, the shed, and the cottage. He found nothing. "Someone must have cleaned up for you. No animals in the barn, though. No one has been her for a while."

I managed to relax. "Abelard. He must have come home and found us missing."

He sheathed his sword and moved to lift me from the horse. He was about to carry me to the cottage when I stopped him.

"Please let me walk."

He looked me over, then met my eyes, as if silently asking me if I was sure that I was strong enough.

"I need to do this, Gawain. I'm saying good-bye to everything; Everything I've always known. Please?"

A slow blink of his bright blue eyes was his only sign of consent before he carefully set me on my feet. He made sure I was steadying herself against the horse's neck, then moved to the pack horse and retrieved the crutches. He gently steadied me until I found my balance and began to hobble toward the cottage. I paused a few seconds to brush the tips of my fingers over the Healer's Rune that was carved into the doorpost before entering.

"Will there be anything I can do to help you?" he asked as he followed me inside.

"There," I pointed to a curtained alcove on the back wall. "The trunk there has my winter clothes and…" I hesitated a moment, then finally decided to trust him completely. "A rosewood box with Saxon carvings in it."

"Stolen from your father." A statement, not a question, as if he already knew.

"Yes."

He nodded. "I will get it. And Bree?"

I looked up to meet his gaze.

"Your secret is safe with me. Unless you give me leave, I will never tell another soul."

I vaguely wondered if Gawain watched the burden lift from my shoulders at his promise. "Thank you," I whispered, as I fought back tears.

He flashed me a little smile before turning to the alcove.

I freed one hand to brush away the tears and turned immediately to my left. My leather gathering bag and cloak hung in their proper place alongside Mamma's. I managed to don my cloak, then slung both bags across my chest so that one hung at each hip. The weight felt comfortable and familiar, but I was tiring already and knew I would have to hurry.

Leaning heavily on the crutches, I hobbled to the storage wall. Floor to ceiling shelves held jars and leather pouches, each one marked in some way that only Mamma and I would understand. I started searching through the stores, sniffing, and sometimes even tasting each before either returning it to the shelf or placing it in one of the gatherings bags at my sides. I wrapped the jars in a rags first to keep them from breaking.

Using the crutches, I hopped sideways to the table to wrap and place the small scales and weights in the bag on my left hip, and the stone mortar and pestle in the one on my right.

"I used the quilt on the bed to wrap up your box." I was almost to the fireplace when Gawain spoke.

"Thank you." I made it to my destination and from a high shelf that I could barely reach, grabbed a leather envelope of sewing tools and a reed flute. I added them to the bags on my hips. I glanced around my childhood home. I felt empty.

"Is there anything else you need?"

I shook my head. "No. Time is against us and if I don't leave now, I never will."

He nodded his understanding then picked up the satchel that he had put my things from the alcove into.

I hobbled after him to the horses.

He lifted me into the saddle before going to the pack horse.

One large satchel I could carry myself, if I was well, and the two leather gathering bags were all I had left of Mamma and my old life.

When he finished, he also tied the crutches across the top of the bundle before going back and making sure the cottage door was closed securely.

"Why did you do that? The Saxons will burn it when they find it, no matter how you leave it."

He looked into my eyes as he answered. "So no innocents or animals will take refuge here and die in the fire. It is no guarantee, but it is the best I can do to ease my conscience."

A feeling shot through me. Not pain. A chill ran down my spine, while my face felt flushed, and I swallowed hard, even though my mouth felt dry. I think I nodded my understanding and agreement. I didn't flinch when he settled behind me and reached around me to take the reigns. Even the frightened, abused part of me _knew_ he would not hurt me. I tried to reason with my own line of thought. _But surely,_ _surely this man has a woman waiting for him at the wall._

As we neared the main road we could hear the rumble of wagon wheels and as we cleared the trees, the last stragglers from our rag-tag group were rounding a bend ahead of us.

"Refugees." I had not meant to say it out loud.

"What was that?" Gawain asked.

"Refugees." I repeated, louder. "I am one of them now. None of us any better than poor refugees and beggars."

He made a sound in his throat as if he wanted to argue, but he held his tongue and urged the horses into a trot.


	3. Chapter 3 Renewal

******Chapter three has been completed in the new style.**

**This is as close to a Mary Sue as I've ever published. And this is probably as far as I'll go.**

**I don't own any of the characters except my own. Yadda, Yadda, so don't sue my penniless self!**

**Chapter 3 Renewal**

True to Gawain's word, it didn't take Dagonet, long to notice that I was trying to work through the pain. I felt his eyes on me every time my formerly agile fingers fumbled as I made a tea with fever-few, lavender, and white willow for all three of us, former prisoners.

I could take only a few shaky sips of mine before I threw myself into making a poultice of lavender, arnica, and nettle. I barely made it halfway through the making of it.

The frozen road was very rough, with deep ruts and holes and I was already gritting my teeth against the pain shooting through the innermost parts of my body, while struggling to stay focused on the task at hand.

My gasp of surprise turned to a whimper in my throat when we hit an unusually large bump. The mortar and pestle slipped from my hands and tumbled into my lap before spilling the herbs in my skirt as my hands clutched at my abdomen. The world started to spin and I could no longer keep myself up right. I failed to catch myself and my head thumped against the wooden floor of the wagon. A weak moan escaped me.

Dagonet picked me up as the Roman lady salvaged as much of the crushed herbs as she could. The large man gently laid me back on my pile of furs. "Where is your pain?"

I wondered if he was blind, but when I tried to speak, no words would come. I bit my lower lip and shook my head, my hands were still clutching at my stomach as my body instinctively tried to curl into a fetal position.

The Roman lady shooed him away. "Finish this please, Dagonet. All three of them need this. She may feel more comfortable letting a woman help her this time."

"I will help."

I looked into the face of the Wode woman. Her brown eyes were sympathetic.

The female Roman nodded to her. When she turned back to me there were tears in her eyes. "Bree, My name is Urelia. I am so sorry for what my husband has done. I want to help you now."

My fellow prisoner moved forward and clasped my shaking, clutching fingers. "We never really met before. I am Guinevere. I know what they did to you down there. I know that you want to help me heal more quickly, but there is something wrong and you must let us help you for now."

Together, the two women managed to get my body to open up, if not relax. The shame of their gentle examination and the memories that such touches, though light and considerate of my pain, was numbing to the point that I ceased to struggle at all. I lay as still as I cold and let the tears slide down my temples and collect in my ears. When they asked me questions, Guinevere would do her best to answer and spare me further shame, but when she could not, I think I tried to answer them, though I have no recollection of what I said.

At some point, they made me drink more tea and eventually I slept.

When I awoke, my tongue felt thick and swollen in my mouth, and my head ached. Most of the pain between my legs and in my abdomen was gone.

"She has awakened." I heard Guinevere say quietly.

A cup was held to my lips. "Drink this, dear." Urelia held up my head and assisted me to drink more tea.

I obediently swallowed anything placed in my mouth, including several drinks of broth, a couple small hunks of bread, and even more tea. As I was drifting back to sleep, I realized that they were adding something to tea to make me sleep.

The next time I woke up I was careful to lay still so they would not know it. I was still a bit groggy and had no idea how much time had passed.

"Bree?" Gawain's voice.

I twitched, but reminded myself that I must stay still.

"Not now, lad." Dagonet said softly. "She sleeps."

"What's wrong with her, Dag? Tell me the truth." He moved away from my side and I cracked my eye lids open to watch them.

"Can you handle the truth, Gawain?" The giant was wiping his hands on a cloth.

"Tell me." he growled.

Dagonet sighed. "She was brutalized, lad. Tortured. Violently raped. Repeatedly. She may be with child. If she is, and should she manage to survive the pregnancy, she may never be able to bear another. And worse, at this point we do not know what is keeping her sane. We have no idea what kind of mental and emotional state she is in."

"But," the younger knight sounded lost. "But she seemed fine. She-"

Dagonet grabbed him by his mail shirt and pinned him to a wooden support, at his eye level, so the other's feet were dangling. "Gawain, she had a drive to tend the others we rescued. She had things to distract her from thinking about what was done to her. When she wakes up, that will be gone, and what will be left for her? She will have to face her past and there is no knowing how she will handle it. She has no family to look after her. She has no home to return to. She is going to a strange place filled with strangers and will have to survive by her wits."

Gawain was gasping, and looked as if he were in pain as he struggled to get out of the taller man's grasp. When he finally stopped struggling, he looked over his friend's shoulder at me and I could see that he was nearly weeping, his blue eyes glinting with unshed tears. "But why? and why had they not hurt _her_?" He pointed at Guinevere.

Dag loosened his grip and let my golden knight stand on his feet. "Guinevere told us that Bree and her mother were already there when she was captured, and that they were captured under different pretenses."

"Pretenses?"

"Bree and her mother were accused of witchcraft, and every time the monks brutalized them, they blamed the women for enchanting them to do it, or seducing them. Guinevere was caught trying to spy out the compound. She was a military prisoner so her torture was more traditional. And she actually had not been down there that long. No one can say what would have happened if we had not come."

Gawain sagged back against the support, his expression blank as he processed this new information.

"Just give it time. We have been drugging her to sleep since last even. We intend to let her fully awaken this time. We will see how she is feeling and send for you later. You go and get a hold of yourself." He rested one hand on the younger man's shoulder and looked him straight in the eye. "Think deeply on all the possibilities, including that she never wants to see another man for as long as she lives. She didn't want me to help her yesterday, the women had to tend her until she was asleep."

I was surprised neither of them had noticed that I was awake, especially Gawain as he continued to stare at me, huddled under the furs. "Tell me. How bad was she really?"

"I don't know how she endured that horseback ride to her cottage."

Gawain paled and nodded before silently leaving the wagon.

"I would not be surprised if I'm setting that lad's hand in an hour or two…" Dagonet started to mutter as he moved around to check on the boy who was sitting up and eating soup.

I suddenly had to sneeze and I had no chance to muffle it.

Urelia was instantly by my side. "How are you, dear?"

I didn't answer, but started to try to raise myself into a sitting position.

"Carefully, or you will re-damage yourself," the gentle giant called to me without looking up.

Once I was sitting up, a bowl of soup and a cup of tea was brought. I eyed them suspiciously.

"No extra herbs this time, dear. We only did it at all so that you could get some rest and so we could tend to your injuries without causing you more pain."

I hated to think who the "we" might include so I just nodded and started to slowly eat the soup.

I didn't know what to think or what to feel. The pain was mostly gone, though I was still very sore, but without the pain that I had been fighting, I felt... Emptiness. Mamma was dead. Abelard was away and would probably never find me. I might be pregnant. That was the thought that frightened me the most. I started taking a mental inventory of the herbs I had with me, trying to remember which would make me miscarry with the least amount of stress on both myself and the child. No matter if the father was a false "man of god", I could not cause it to suffer for the sins of it's father. Then my thoughts shifted. Could I really kill the unborn life inside me, if I was even pregnant. I thought of Mamma. She knew what herbs to take. She could have rid herself of the barbarian's seed, but she hadn't. I began to cry softly. I could never purposely harm the child. No matter how it came to be. But how would we survive? Life was hard enough for forest healers. An unwed one with a child to feed… We would both wind up starving to death. Or being burned as witches. God had provided for me all my life. How could I doubt Him now? _"Help me, Father God!"_ I silently prayed as tears slid down her face. _"I do not know what to do now. I feel so alone and empty. I need your help!"_

A gentle hand on my shoulder made me look up.

Urelia moved the bowl and cup out of the way before settling herself beside me and wrapping her arms around my shaking body. She said nothing, just offered a bit of comfort.

The last of my personal walls dissolved completely. I clung to her as if she was Mamma, back from death, and cried myself to sleep in the motherly embrace.

I must have slept the rest of the day, for when I awoke, the wagons were stopped and everyone that was able was helping set up camp.

I got up and using the crutches to balance, tried to help. I first checked on the little boy. His fever was gone and his eyes were bright. I smiled and gently brushed one of his light brown curls out of his eyes. "You look better."

He nodded.

"My name is Bree. What is yours?"

"L-Lucan."

"I am very glad to meet you, Lucan."

"D-Did th-those m-men hurt you t-too?"

"Yes, Lucan. They hurt me very badly. But I am getting better too, and I am going to trust God to help me."

"D-Dagonet s-said he is g-going to a-adopt m-me."

I smiled again and gave him a gentle hug. "I am so glad for you, Lucan. Dagonet is a good man."

Once the camp was set up, a wash tub was set up in the wagon, snow was melted into warm bathwater and we got to wash away the grime and stench of death and our captivity.

Dag bathed Lucan first, then dressed him in clean clothes that were a bit too big for him and carried him off to the tent he'd set up.

Guinevere insisted that I go next and helped Urelia steady me as I stepped into the tub. They helped me bathe, then washed and combed out my long hair. Once I was dressed and sitting on my pile of furs, I started re-wrapping my knees while Guinevere took her turn.

When she was done, Urelia dressed her in one of her old gowns and found her a cloak and a pair of light shoes. The Wode woman promptly disappeared for a walk.

"I must go to my husband now," Urelia said, her hand resting on the top of my head. "I will try to return sometime tonight, if not, I will see you with the morning sun."

"Good night, Urelia. Thank you."

One I was alone, my mind wandered back toward the dark pit of hopelessness until a familiar voice called through the gathering evening.

"Bree? It's Gawain. I am bringing you some supper."

"Come." I hoped that he did not hear my voice crack.

"Soup and bread."

I smiled little and tried to joke. "Same old soup and bread," then the feelings of shame and brokenness returned and I quickly cast my eyes away from him.

He set two bowls down in front of me before breaking a loaf of bread in half. "No one should eat alone."

"I would not care." I carefully kept my gaze was fixed on a spot on the far side of the wagon.

"Why will you not look at me?"

I shrugged without turning.

"Are you afraid of me?"

"No, Gawain." I shook my head adamantly, _"Just afraid of what you will think or ask of me."_

The young knight sighed. "I want to talk with you."

I shrugged again and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "So talk." I was starting to shake from the emotional stress.

He tried to move into my line of sight, but I looked away from him again. I was ashamed at my own behavior, but I simply could not bring myself to meet his eyes.

Gawain gave up and set himself on the floor. "You know that I am keeping your secret. Will you tell me what happened to you in that place?"

A flash of anger made me meet his gaze. "Would you tell me of your battles and of the men you have killed?"

He looked taken aback and almost frightened, but now that I had started this line of reason, I could not stop.

"Would you describe their faces to me in detail from the scenes that haunt your dreams? Would you tell me the things you have done to try to make yourself forget them?"

He shook his head slowly. "No," he whispered.

"Then what makes you think I want to share my months of torment and moments of shame with you?" I turned my face back to the wall as the tears came. "I am less than the woman I should be."

"Please, Bree. Do not turn away from me. I-" It sounded like he was trying to swallow back some of his own emotion. "You do not have to tell me. I just thought it might help you. Arthur says that holding back our griefs into ourselves hurts us more deeply than the griefs themselves. I want to help." He touched my arm.

I did not flinch away from his touch, but neither did I turn back to him. "I am nothing to you that you should want to help me. I have nothing left and certainly have nothing to give you in return."

"Bree, please look at me."

Slowly, hesitantly, I did.

"I am going to tell you one of my secrets now," he said, gently brushing the tears from my face. "I said before that you were the quietest girl I have ever met."

I nodded, remembering.

"That is because all the girls I have known were highborn ladies, giggly peasant girls, or tavern wenches. All of which would have gladly gone to my bed. The tavern girls try the hardest, trying to talk their way under my blankets. Only one ever succeeded."

I did not know what to think and drew away from him slightly.

He continued, seemingly undaunted by my reaction. "I was young, foolish, and hurting. I had made my first kill in battle. I had lost a friend in that same battle. She promised to make me forget. I wound up hurting her, badly. Bree, I regret it with everything in me. At the time I was out of my mind, back in the battle, fighting for my life, but I remembered afterwards. Everything. I am ashamed of what I did to her, and so, I have never taken another woman to my bed, and most certainly not right after a battle."

I found myself riveted by his story, unable to move and barely breathing.

He cupped my face in his hands. "Bree, I can not pretend to know what you have endured but I can understand a lot more than you give me credit for. Two days ago, all I could think of was going back to my homeland and finding a wife. Now, I don't care where I am, as long as you are there. Even if you are unwilling to marry me. I want to take care of you. Your family has been taken from you, so I want to give you another one."

I closed my eyes and let the sobs come.

He drew me to him and held me. He let me cry. He did not make any empty promises and unlike most men I had met, was not bothered or frightened by my tears.

"They accused me of seducing them." I mumbled into his shoulder. "Every time they-" I choked on a sob and could not finish. "Every time they hurt me, they said it was my own fault for asking them to do it, or that I used magic to make them hurt me."

"Never again, Bree. They will never touch you again. You are safe with me."

"There may be a child."

"If there is, I will claim it."

"_Father, God, how can such a man deny you exist?"_ I wondered. "You are the answers to my prayers,"

"If this God of yours exists, why did he put you through this?" He sounded angry and confused.

I smiled through my tears. "So that he could send you to me."

He had nothing to say to that.


	4. Chapter 4 Revenge

******Chapter four has been completed in the new style.**

**This is as close to a Mary Sue as I've ever published. And this is probably as far as I'll go.**

**I don't own any of the characters except my own. Yadda, Yadda, so don't sue my penniless self!**

**Chapter 4 : Revenge**

When I woke up, I was wrapped in furs, Mamma's blanket, and Gawain's arms. I remembered crying myself to sleep against his shoulder, but nothing else. I slowly shifted until I could see his face. He was at peace. And for the first time in a long time, so was I.

I managed to slip out of his grasp without waking him, taking a fur with me to wrap up in.

Last night's untouched soup had a thin layer of ice across the tops of the bowls. I left them and instead grabbed one of the pieces of bread.

I should have used the crutches, but I was only going to sit at the opening of the wagon for a little while, so did not think I would need them. I settled in and started to nibble the bread.

It was a beautiful, peaceful scene. Snow had been falling all night and now everything was glittering under a new, thin layer of cold, white crystals. More flakes were beginning to flutter down and the clouds looked as if they might part at any moment to allow a glimpse of blue sky. I closed my eyes and smiling, turned my face to the sky. _"Thank you, Father, God, for answered prayers and new beginnings." _

A shout broke the peace of the morning.

"Seize him!"

I looked about.

My Roman captor's guards were attacking Dagonet, dragging him from his tent and waking Lucan.

"Gawain! Wake up! Dagonet needs help!"

One of the soldiers kicked Dagonet in the ribs, sending the large man tumbling.

Gawain dashed past me. "Stay out of the fray!" Then he vanished.

"No!" Lucan was crying. "N-"

When my former captor grabbed the boy and held a knife to his throat, I could stand it no longer. I scrambled back inside and fumbled through my gathering bags until I found the only weapon I had available to me, my gathering knife. It was small, but very sharp and my brother had taught me to throw it with some accuracy. My hands were shaking with indignant rage as I gripped it's handle tightly.

Forgetting about my still healing knees, I lept from the wagon. None of the other knights were in sight, not even Gawain, but I hardly cared. I steeled myself and took a stance.

"Kill him now!" The piggish Roman was shouting.

There were two audible thuds and his body convulsed, the hand holding the knife falling away from Lucan's throat. He tumbled to the ground as the boy ran to where Dagonet was crouched.

The large man wrapped his arms protectively around the lad for the briefest of moments before ordering him under a canopy and drawing his sword with a shout.

Guinevere and I exchanged understanding looks across the clearing. She had shot him with an arrow at the same time as I had thrown my dagger.

The pain in my knees finally caught up with me, but Gawain caught me before I collapsed to the cold ground.

At the other end of the clearing, I watched Guinevere stride forward, a second arrow already notched and ready to fire from the bow she carried. The look on her face was frightening even to me.

All I could think was, "I killed him."

"I know, I saw. I have you. It is over."

"I killed him. I killed him. I killed..."

He held me tightly to him.

I could hear horses all around now as the knights arrived and the rest of the camp began to stir.

Arthur had stepped forward to flank Guinevere on one side, his sword drawn.

The black haired knight joined them on her other side. He had both swords drawn and resting casually on his shoulders, the blades crossed behind his neck. He was smirking as if he were being amused by some crude private joke. "Your hands seem to be better." was all he said.

One of the Romans took a threatening step forward.

An arrow whistled through the air and embedded itself between his feet. He looked up as Guinevere readied another arrow.

A shorter, heavier version of Dagonet, rode up suddenly behind the Roman soldiers, shouting Arthur's name in Latin and brandishing a large battle axe. He reined in the horse, just behind the frightened men and glared at them. "Do we have a problem? Huh?"

The guards looked at each other nervously until Arthur's voice drew their attention.

"You have a choice. You help or you die." His sword tip was level with the leader's nose.

When they didn't answer right away, the giant made his horse bump against the nearest guard.

The leader dropped his sword on the snow covered ground, quickly followed by the men standing closest to him. When the others hesitated longer, he ordered them to drop their weapons. "Do it now!" He roared.

They quickly obeyed and Arthur's manservant hurried to collect the swords at the commander's nod.

Another group of horsemen rode up, lead by Tristan.

"How many did you kill?" the horsed giant asked.

"Four." was the simple answer.

"Not a bad start to the day."

When he laughed, I pressed myself tighter against Gawain.

The tattooed knight stopped in front of Arthur and dropped a heavy looking crossbow at his feet. "Armor-piercing. They're close. We have no time."

The Roman commander nodded. "You ride on ahead."

They exchanged silent looks of understanding as Tristan turned and galloped away.

Gawain led me back to hospital wagon and lifted me into it. I clutched at him and begged him not to leave me. He looked deeply into my eyes for a moment. "Wrap up warmly. I will be right back."

I put on my cloak and grabbed a couple extra furs.

A few minutes later he returned, ridding his horse. "Hand me an extra fur."

As I turned to retrieve one, a Sarmation knight about the same age as Gawain, but with darker hair rode up. "Brother, what are you doing?" I heard him ask.

"Galahad, she needs me."

"You have work to do and you can't do it with a woman on your back."

"Have you forgotten your first kill, Galahad?"

There was silence outside the wagon as I stood utterly still, barely breathing and listening to the siblings spat.

"Have you forgotten the sickness and the shock?" Gawain continued.

"Never! You know how-"

"Well you're not acting like it!" Gawain sounded angry now. "She just made her first _human_ kill, and to make matters worse, she's a healer! She's dedicated herself to saving lives and she just ended one! On top of everything else she's been through! Go ride your circuit, Galahad. Help strike the camp. We will be along."

I waited until I heard the other horse gallop away before stepping to the opening.

Gawain held his hand out for the fur. "Here."

I watched his face as he folded the fur several times over the saddle to give me extra padding. "Is something wrong, Gawain?"

He looked up at me and smiled sadly. "A sibling spat. Not for you to worry about. Come." He reached for me then.

I settled behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist.

"You ready?"

I nodded and rested my cheek against his rough metal armor. "Yes."

We started ridding a circuit around the camp, encouraging and helping the people when needed, but the thought of advancing Saxons was all the encouragement the people needed to get them ready to travel on.

A woman approached us and when Gawain stopped to speak with her, she offered me a knife. My knife. It had been carefully cleaned and dried.

I shuddered as my her fingers closed around the hilt. "Thank you." I thought I sounded like I was choking.

The peasant woman bowed low and returned to her work.

I managed to find a safe place to tuck it away until it could be returned to my gathering bag.

"I hope the only thing you ever have to use that for is herbs and healing." Gawain said.

"Me too." I said, quietly.

Early in the afternoon, we, the group, reached our last great obstacle between us and the safety of the wall. A wide, frozen lake.

"Is there any other way?" Arthur asked of Tristan.

The scout gave him a solemn look. "No. We have to cross the ice."

The leader nodded then turned to his manservant who had just ridden up beside him. "Get them out of the carriages. Tell them to spread out."

The servant turned his horse and rode back along the line, relaying the orders while the knights began to dismount their horses.

I was about to slide down after Gawain but he stopped me with a hand on my thigh. "Stay."

I obediently slid forward into the saddle, gripping the front edge tightly. I could sense the fear and tension that was rolling off of the knights.

It was slow going. Everyone was being extra cautious.

When the entire ragged group had nearly reached the middle of the lake, the ice beneath us began to creak and groan more loudly.

The knights exchanged uneasy glances among themselves and behind us, I could hear some of the women and children begin to cry.

Cracks began to form under our feet.

I bit my lower lip and tucked a wayward wisp of hair out of my eyes.

Arthur held up his hand to halt the procession.

In the stillness, a new sound was heard. Saxon drums. Their sound announcing the pace of the advancing barbarian soldiers.

I shuddered at the sound, thinking of Mamma. At that moment I was glad she was already gone, spared the memories and terror of that sound.

The leader of the Sarmation knights took another step and the ice protested his advancement, but held.

At the pace we had to go, the Saxons would catch up before we were across.

He drew a deep breath and turned to face us. "Knights..?"

"Well I'm tired of runnin'," the heavier version of Dagonet said. "And these Saxons are so close behind, my bum is hurtin."

Arthur's grey eyes flicked to Tristan.

"I never liked looking over my shoulder any way." the scout said in answer.

Dagonet just smiled slyly at Arthur's unvoiced question.

He looked to Gawain as Galahad stepped up beside us.

"It will be a pleasure to put an end to this racket!" my golden warrior growled.

"And finally get a good look at them." Galahad finished.

"Here." Dagonet said. "Now."

The dark knight with cold blue eyes merely shrugged.

Then everyone began scrambling to get ready.

Gawain turned to me as if he were going to say something and beckoned me to lean over, as if he wished to tell me privately.

When I leaned down to hear him better, he gently kissed my cheek. When he turned away, his bow and quiver of arrows were in his hands, slipped from their place on the saddle.

"No!" I whispered, but he acted like he had not heard me. I knew what they were doing. It was suicide for seven of them to face the advancing army, and yet that was exactly what they intended.

One of the peasant men was begging to stay and fight, but Arthur forbade him and ordered him to lead the people to the wall instead.

"But you're seven against two hundred."

"Eight." I said, but so did someone else.

Several pairs of eyes flicked between me, still mounted of Gawain's horse, and Guinevere. We exchanged understanding smiles.

"Nine, then. You could use another bow." To solidify her point, the Wode woman picked up a bow and skillfully strung it.

"No, Bree! Go with the others." Gawain tried to order me, but it was my turn to not hear.

I snatched the reins from his loose grip and danced the horse out of his reach. "I stay."

"No, Bree! I can't loose you!" he begged.

"She's not going to leave, Gawain." Galahad clasped his brother's shoulder. "She is too afraid of losing you too."

I smiled and nodded my thanks to him, but Gawain was shocked speechless as his brother continued.

"We are going to have a tough time of it catching up with the caravan on foot, after fighting off all those brutes. If she were to hold the horses for us on the far end of the lake, that would keep her out of danger, and let her still feel close. She could even help Dag patch us up afterward."

I quickly agreed to the proposed compromise.

Gawain reached up and cupped my face in his hands. "Will you promise me that you will stay there, no matter what, and that if we should be overpowered, you will ride like the wind to warn the caravan?"

"I promise to keep the horses for you and ride to warn the others, if there is a need." If he caught the fact that I had not actually promised to stay there, he did not press it.

He kissed me again, then joined the other knights, readying themselves for the battle.

"Thank you, Galahad." I whispered to him as I took his horse's reigns.

He nodded in response and followed his brother.

I set about collecting the other eight horses and stopped a minute at the medical wagon to stock my gathering bags. I took an extra moment to replace my knife in one, then set off across the ice to the place I was assigned to wait.

The sound of the drums continued to draw nearer as I secured the extra horses to a jutting rock in a ravine. I hoped that by them being out of the way, they would not spook, but I also knew that I could not stay there and hide with them. I had to watch. Still sitting on Gawain's horse, I rode back to the edge of the ice.

Eight figures stood in a line across the middle of the frozen lake.

I clung to the saddle and did the only thing I could to help. I prayed, rocking slightly in the saddle, my eyes open and fixed on my golden warrior. _"Keep them all safe! Let them come back! Please let him come back to me. Please, Father God, keep him; keep them safe!"_


	5. Chapter 5 Return

******Chapter five has been completed in the new style.**

**This is as close to a Mary Sue as I've ever published. And this is probably as far as I'll go.**

**I don't own any of the characters except my own. Yadda, Yadda, so don't sue my penniless self!**

**Chapter 5 : Return**

The bitter wind whipped snow into my face and down my back. I shivered and tried to draw the warm furs tighter around myself as I watched the eight fighters stand their ground.

Eight people, eight souls, most of whom I had come to care about. A tall scarred man, and a Wode woman that I considered friends. A dark warrior and his brother, the golden warrior, whom I loved. I could pick him out from the others because both his hair and armor were lighter in color than the others. They stood between me and an army of barbarians.

I refused to think about the fact that I was half Saxon myself. Blood does not determine allegiance.

Though I longed to be down there with them, I knew that my presence would only be a distraction and that I would be more likely to cause harm than good. So I waited, nervously tucking hair behind my ears.

When the Saxon army finally came into view, I felt as if my heart had leaped into my throat. There were so many…

One of the Saxon archers shot an arrow to judge the distance and came up far too short.

Two of the knights returned fire, each arrow killing a barbarian soldier.

Angered, the Saxons again started to advance, their black banners snapping in the wind.

The eight fighters began picking off the men at the edges of the enemy's ranks, making the brutes cower together.

The ice protested their weight and cracked further, threatening to send them to a cold, wet grave, but did not break.

I heard Arthur's order to prepare for combat, his voice echoing across the frozen landscape.

One of the eight figures suddenly dashed across the ice with a battle ax held high.

"Dag!" someone shouted, but he didn't halt his sprint.

I screamed, "No!" and disregarding the barely binding promise to Gawain to stay back, no matter what, I urged the horse forward.

The blade of the ax hit the ice like a clap of thunder.

The knights were firing their arrows again, now aiming for the enemy archers that were trying to form up.

Three times the ax blade fell, making its ringing thunder. A loud groan and a series if icy snaps followed the third blow.

"The ice is breaking!" someone screamed across the frozen lake.

I brought the horse up short and searched for the owner of the voice that was so much like my brother's.

Something about the front line of the Saxons drew my attention. One man did not fit. A dark haired Briton stood among the barbarian horde, pointing to the lengthening and expanding cracks under their feet.

Confusion froze me like a statue. _"Why is he helping the Saxons? How could he betray us?"_

"Kill him! Kill him!" the Saxon leader was screaming.

The ax fell a fourth time before Dagonet fell over, hit by at least one arrow and more were flying through the air towards him. He struggled to his feet and with a cry of effort and pain, brought the blade down for the fifth and final time. Another arrow struck him and he went down, falling into the dark, cold water of death.

"No!" I cried again, and I kicked the horse forward again. Even the yawning ice and screams from the Saxon soldiers that were falling into it could not hold me back any longer.

The ice popped loudly under the horse's hooves. He spooked and tried to bolt back to shore. I managed to slip from his back before I was thrown, or carried off by him. Forgetting about my knees for the second time that day, I ran forward, or tried to. I slipped and stumbled my way across the ice as fast as I could.

Arthur and Dagonet's brother were running to him. The Roman leader got there first and hauled him out of the water. The large, scarred, bald knight was right behind him and used a shield to deflect the flying arrows away from all three of them.

But the ice had another idea. After holding for so long, the web-like cracks spread quickly, as if racing to swallow the pitiful creatures that had foolishly ventured onto its surface.

I was tossed down, hard, as it shifted and shuddered all the way to the banks. Dazed, I tried to make sense of all the shouting.

Then I saw Gawain dash forward to help bring his comrade to safety.

I regained my feet and hurried toward them. When the arrows stopped whooshing through the air, I was relieved, but only slightly. "Dagonet?" I was reaching for him before I even saw him, but stopped suddenly when I saw the damage. He was beyond my help now.

I stood there shaking, and staring down at him. I felt helpless. I felt guilty. Then Gawain was there, holding me. "Why didn't you stay back? I begged you to stay back!" he was asking over and over.

"I can't help him. His wounds are beyond me. I can't help him," was all I could think or say for several minutes, then another emotion reached my brain. I suddenly did not want held or comforted any more. I pushed away from Gawain, turned toward the cowering barbarians, and screamed. When I looked across, I could see my brother standing there on the other side. "Abelard! You are my brother no more! You turncoat! You traitor!" Words entered my screams. The rage I felt was far from spent. I blamed the Saxons for coming back. I blamed Abelard for helping them. Dagonet's blood was on my brother's hands.

When I finally stopped screaming, the pain in my knees became unbearable and I nearly collapsed. Gawain caught me and held me tightly to his chest until I calmed down. Which was not long. We had to get moving again to catch up to the others.

From Gawain's arms as he carried me, I lead them to where I had left the horses and was relieved to find that Gawain's horse had returned to them instead of running off completely.

I asked Guinevere to lay out one of my extra furs over the snow for the men men carrying Dagonet's body to wrap him up in until we got to the wall. "We can't let Lucan see. He must be told, but…"

"This sight will be too much for him." Guinevere finished.

As we were about to mount up, I noticed that Arthur was bleeding from an arrow graze on the side of his neck and convinced him to allow me to tend him before we set out.

None of us had the desire to catch up with the caravan too quickly, so we rode at a slow but steady pace all day.

I dozed against Gawain's shoulder, but sleep was far from me. My mind was too full of questions.

He asked me only once about my screaming fit. I told him I was not ready to tell him and he accepted that.

We caught up with the others just before sunset, so instead of setting up a proper camp, we slept in the wagons and only a couple small fires popped up in our midst. Most of us just wanted to sleep.

Guinevere and I found Lucan in Urelia's wagon, along with her son. We delivered our sad news as gently as we could, but he was still distraught and cried himself to sleep. Guinevere stayed with them and I returned to Gawain.

As I was getting a bed ready in the wagon, I began humming softly to myself.

"I have first watch."

I turned to see Gawain leaning through the flap.

"Try to sleep, I will be back in a few hours."

I tried to obey, but my sleep was broken and fitful until he returned to my side.

Neither of us had much to say, we just comforted each other in our grief for a while. "I keep seeing his face." he whispered.

"And I." I agreed.

"What was that you were humming earlier?"

"A little tune my mother used to sing whenever I was frightened or sad."

"Would you sing it? Please?"

I snuggled deeper into his arms. "Of course.

"_When fear rolls in like thunder clouds and sorrow has you encompassed 'round,_

_When dark is the night and cold the wind,_

_Let Him give you light._

_When troubles like a mountain rise, and so deep your valley there is no sky,_

_When hard is life and you fall weary,_

_Let Him give you strength._

_When comfort is far from your sight,_

_When terrors stalk you through the night,_

_When you will at last kneel down,_

_Then you will hear His voice resound."_

Gawain lay still and listened as I sang softly of the God I believed in so resolutely, until we both drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, the Guinevere told me that Lucan had tried to sneak out to find Dagonet's body several times during the night, so she was going to ride with him in Urelia's wagon. They also agreed to take my one large bag in their wagon, so the hospital wagon could be used for one of the families who had been traveling on foot.

"I wish you would ride in the wagon too."

"Gawain, I can't. I-"

He kissed my forehead to shush me. "I understand. If you are sure, then come."

As before, I rode behind him, my arms around his waist, my head resting against his broad shoulders. I think we actually shared more through our silence together, than all the words in the would could have hoped to express.

The farther south the sad, weary group went, the warmer it became, until we rode back into Autumn. The roads became dustier, especially once we passed through the gate of the famous wall.

I had never seen so many people at once and I began to feel very small and insignificant. _What am I going to do now?_ I kept asking herself.

Gawain must have felt me tense up behind him, for he put one hand reassuringly over mine where they were clasped together on his stomach. "Hold on to me. All will be well." He whispered.

The claustrophobia set in when we reached the fort. The buildings were huge, compared to my mother's cottage and the village huts I was used to. I bit her lower lip and reminded myself to breathe.

The Sarmation knights and two of the wagons entered a courtyard through a high metal gate as a finely dressed priest, followed by several servants came out to meet us. His arrogance and way of speaking reminded me of my former captors.

The knights dismounted and Gawain turned back to lift me gently down. He held me closely to his side with one arm, almost hiding me as the clergyman gushed his pleasure at their return. He was suddenly interrupted.

"Lucan!"

The little boy had slipped passed Guinevere and was dashing among the knights, looking for Dagonet. The Wode woman was following as quickly as she could.

"You, Boy, stop!" A Roman soldier shouted and started after them.

There was ringing of steel. Galahad stepped in front of him, the tip of his dagger level with the soldier's throat.

The other man came up short and gulped.

Gawain stepped forward to back up his brother, as I limped after Guinevere and Lucan.

The clergyman waved his soldier back.

Lucan stopped when he found the wrapped bundle that was Dagonet's body. One hand had slipped free of the wrapping. A ring was visible on the index finger. With trembling hands, the orphan pulled the ring from the lifeless finger. It filled his small hand as he looked at it before closing it as tightly as he could into his fist.

Guinevere rested her hands gently on the small boy's shoulders and looked forlornly at Arthur.

No one dared to deny him his memento as he broke into tears and Guinevere led him back to the wagon.

I was frozen to the spot, my heart pulling me in two directions. I looked to Gawain.

He held out a hand to me and I returned to his side.

The Roman priest chuckled nervously. "Our great knights. You are free now! Give me the papers. Come, come!" He was frantically waving at one of his servants until the man arrived at his side, carrying a beautiful wooden box. He lifted the lid to reveal the six scrolls that were neatly housed inside, as his master continued. "Your papers of safe conduct throughout the Roman Empire! Take it, Arthur."

The leader of the Sarmation knights was striding slowly forward, his expression dark. He stopped in front of the priest. "Bishop Germanius. Friend of my father."

_Bishop. That explains a lot._ I could hear the hostility directed at him in Arthur's voice and I felt Gawain tense up, next to me. I prayed that there would be no fight as I looked at the scrolls and wondered what they meant.

Arthur finally strode away.

The dark haired knight I now knew as Lancelot, stepped forward and roughly claimed all the papers, as if he were drawing his swords. He turned back to his fellow knights, giving a scroll to each.

Galahad took his, casting a dark look toward the bishop who was rambling again about the knights being free, and turned away.

Gawain hesitated to take his. He looked down at me for a moment, then finally accepted it. He looked torn, as if he wished to follow his brother, but he also did not want to leave me.

Tristan accepted his scroll with no hesitation, but he and Gawain exchanged uneasy looks as Lancelot got to Dagonet's brother.

The large man was staring at nothing, his entire body shaking as fat tears streamed from his eyes.

"Bors."

He didn't respond.

The black knight slapped two scrolls across his friend's chest to get the man's attention. "Bors! For Dagonet." Lancelot was near tears himself, and his voice wavered.

It was the first time I had ever seen any emotion from him, other than anger or out-and-out hostility. I actually started to feel a little sorry for him.

Bors accepted the scrolls with shaking hands then threw first one, then the other into the dirt at the bishop's feet. "This does not make him a free man. He is already a free man. He is dead." He turned and walked away.

A look of fear crossed the bishop's face as the knights started moving.

Gawain and I picked up the scrolls, as Tristan claimed the box that had held the papers on their long journey across land and sea. The others brushed roughly past the frightened clergyman as they made their way to their quarters.


	6. Chapter 6 Restless

******Chapter six has been completed in the new style.**

**This is as close to a Mary Sue as I've ever published. And this is probably as far as I'll go.**

**I don't own any of the characters except my own. Yadda, Yadda, so don't sue my penniless self!**

**Chapter 6: Restless**

I stood still, my shawl wrapped tightly around my shoulders to ward off the chill of the misty rain, and leaning heavily on my crutches. I had stood there for a long time, watching the knights bury Dagonet's body. I was trying to hold back my tears for Lucan, but the little boy was past caring about what anyone else did.

He only had eyes for the shrouded body, and now the dirt mound above it. He sniffled and Guinevere wrapped her arms more tightly around the boy's shoulders.

Gawain placed the treasured scroll into the box Tristan had claimed from the Bishop, then solemnly placed it on the top of the grave, near the head. The hilt of Dagonet's sword stuck out of the ground and formed a metal cross as a memorial to the life and sacrifice of a brave man.

There were many such memorials and mounds in the cemetery where the knights and the people Dagonet had helped rescue had gathered.

I suspected that more than a few of the swords represented people Gawain had known.

"Goodbye, old friend. We'll be along soon," he murmured as he straightened from placing the box.

"_But not too soon, please, Father…" _I prayed.

Everyone began to disperse. The people to start their new lives; Urelia and her son Alecto took Lucan back to the fort; Arthur, followed by Guinevere went deeper into the cemetery; and the knights slowly turned away, one-by-one, to plan their futures.

All, except one. Bors stayed where he was, looking down on his brother's grave, hugging a jug of wine to his chest and waiting for everyone else to leave.

Gawain folded me into his arms and kissed the top of my head. His grip was gentle, but I could feel his desperation, as if holding me was the only thing holding him together.

I had been feeling that way myself over the last few days. I slipped my arms around him. "I know," I whispered. "Come with me and rest for a bit while I make you some supper."

I felt him nod, then he scooped me into his arms and carried me away.

No one disturbed us for several hours. Gawain slept fitfully on the cot in the small room he had acquired for me, while I cooked supper.

When his dreams made him cry out and thrash in his sleep, I would kneel by his head and stroke his brow while humming softly and praying that he would find peace of mind and heart.

A gentle knock on the door drew me way from tending the cooking fire. I hobbled on the crutches to the door and opened it just enough to peek through.

Galahad stood outside looking uncomfortable. "May I speak with you, Bree?"

I nodded and grabbed my shawl off of it's peg. I struggled to drape it around my shoulders without dropping my crutches.

He reached out to help. "I owe you an apology. I thought you might be taking advantage of my brother's kind heart, but I have come to see that he truly needs you, so I just wanted to wish you both the best." He started to turn away.

"Galahad."

He stopped looked back over his shoulder at me, a darker version of the man I loved.

"He needs you too. I have some bread and soup almost ready. Please stay?"

He hesitated.

"He would appreciate hearing what you told me. I was just about to wake him. Stay. Have supper with us. Let us try to lift each others spirits."

He finally nodded his agreement and followed me inside.

I hung my shawl back up, then went to the hearth to check the food while Galahad walked over to wake Gawain.

After talking quietly for a few minutes, both men ate heartily.

"You wield herbs as skillfully in the kitchen as you do in the sick house." Gawain told me cheerfully.

"Thank you." I think I was blushing.

"If this is how your woman cooks, Brother, I may have to encroach on your hospitality for every meal until I find a woman of my own."

I laughed.

"That will be up to her, Galahad."

"I do not mind, you are always welcome at our fire."

Gawain drew me into his lap and looked deeply into my eyes. "Will you walk with me? I want to discuss the future."

I nodded and slipped off of his lap to ready myself.

"Stay as long as you like, Brother, we will be back soon."

Galahad grinned as Gawain picked up his cloak and draped it around his shoulders before helping me put on mine.

We were quiet in the evening chill.

I could tell he was taking shorter steps than he was used to so he would not out distance me on my crutches.

He finally broke the silence. "What were you shouting across the ice, Bree?"

I drew a deep, calming breath. "I was closing the door to the very last of my past and my family."

He gave me a curious look.

"I saw my brother, acting as guide and scout for the Saxons."

"What?!" Gawain stopped in his tracks forcing me to stop and look back at him.

"I do not know why, but he is helping them."

"Are you sure?" He stepped forward and clasped my shoulders earnestly. "Perhaps it was just someone who looked like him. You were pretty far away-"

"No, Gawain." I shook my head sadly. "It was him. He is dead to me. I am truly alone now." I covered my face with one hand and let the tears flow.

I felt Gawain wrap his arms around me. His embrace was warm and comforting. I sagged against him and let him support me until my tears were done.

We finally started walking again.

"Are you afraid of heights?"

I shook my head. "Not usually."

He grinned. "Walk the battlements with me?"

"Yes."

The guards didn't question our presence as we started to climb the stairs, but it was difficult going for me, so Gawain lifted me into his arms and carried me to the top. He set me back on my feet and we started walking around the fortress walls.

"The Romans are leaving Briton." he began. "This place will be cleared of all soldiers within few days. I do not intend to stay here, but neither do I intend to leave you alone. Will you come with me?"

"To where?"

He sat on the edge of the wall and looked into my eyes. "Anywhere…" he whispered. "We could go with Arthur to Rome if you wanted, or we could travel the world until we find a place with no Romans."

I bit her lower lip and nervously reached to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, but Gawain caught my hands.

"I will marry you as quickly as we may and I will do what I must to provide for you, even if I must learn to farm- You're trembling! Are you chilled up here in the night air?"

I shook my head as he was reaching to unclasp his cloak. "No, I am not cold. I am... Relieved. I am happy beyond expression."

His tone turned serious again. "Before you say yes, I have to tell you something. If we settle within the Roman Empire, any sons we have could be claimed as Sarmation knights when they come of age."

"The scrolls and all the talk of your 'freedom'. Is that what you mean?"

"Yes. It is a curse I would willingly break if I could. Our ancestors were great horsemen, and the only survivors of an army that tried to defend itself against the Romans. Because of their bravery, their lives were spared in return for each generation of boys serving the Empire for at least fifteen years. I had intended to return to my people and start a family - another generation to serve. But now, after Dagonet," he shook his head sadly. "I do not want to lose my sons the same as my father lost Galahad and me. I-"

A horn sounded in the distance and shouts from guards on the far side of the fortress.

We hurried as fast as I was able to see what had caused the alarm.

In the field before the enormous gates of Hadrian's Wall, bonfires had sprung up in the dark. The wind carried up the sounds of gruff voices speaking in a strange language.

"The Saxons." I whispered. "They moved more quickly than we thought they would."

"Send word to Arthur to come to the wall, and fetch the rest of the knights!" Gawain ordered the nearest guard.

Once the man had left, Gawain sat on the edge of the wall and drew me onto his lap. He held me close and listened to my whispered prayers as we waited. I had no tears left, I simply stared at the fires.

They looked to me like the fiery eyes of terrible beasts that wanted to devour all the light and goodness out of the world. "Keep us in your hand, keep us safe." I prayed quietly to myself. "I am frightened for the people, for the knights, for Gawain. Help us, Father. Please do not let us be over run by evil men."

Galahad was the first to arrive. He exchanged worried looks with Gawain.

Tristan and Lancelot came next, both dressed for a battle.

Bors stumbled up the steps, still feeling the effects of the wine, but one look at the field of fires sobered him instantly. He sat down beside Gawain and I.

The people within the fortress all gathered below, waiting to learn what was going on.

"Make way! Make Way!" one of the guards shouted.

Arthur's manservant, Jols was leading the Roman commander up the stone steps, Guinevere following closely behind as she struggled with her long skirt.

There was silence as Arthur looked out at the Saxon encampment.

The Wode woman took in the scene below her of the gathered enemy forces, then looked pleadingly at Arthur.

He met the gaze of each knight in turn, then looked out over the gathered people, before suddenly turning back again, determination in his eyes. "Knights, my journey with you must end here. May God go with you." He started back down the steps without waiting for a reply.

I watched the rest of the events unfold through a haze of shock.

Lancelot glared accusingly at Guinevere before starting after the commander. "Arthur, this is not Rome's fight."

The other man ignored him and strode on when he reached the bottom of the stairs.

Guinevere started after them both, as quickly as her long skirt would allow.

The rest of the knights followed more slowly.

"This is not your fight!" Lancelot continued, jogging to catch up. "All these long years we have been together, the trials we have faced, the blood we have shed. What was it all for, if not for the reward of freedom? And now when we are so close, when it is finally within our grasp… Look at me!" He grabbed the other man's shoulder and spun him to face him. "Does it all count for nothing?"

"You ask me that? You who know me best of all." Arthur turned away again.

I didn't know what to think of the exchange as the black haired knight raced ahead to face his commander again.

"Then do not do this! Only certain death awaits you here! Arthur, I beg you! For our friendship's sake, I beg you!"

Gawain placed one hand over one ear, then gently pressed my head down against his shoulder. He knew how shouting frightened me, so he muffled the sounds and drew me away.

"Let us travel the world, and let us not stop until we find a place where the Roman Empire does not control." I pleaded as we entered my room.

I was trembling.

He steered me toward the cot and made me lay down. "I like that plan. Now try to sleep. We have a long journey ahead of us. I have to go take care of some things, so just sleep. I'll be back by morning."

Did as he asked and tried to sleep, but true rest escaped me. I drifted in and out of an uneasy sleep.

True to his word, he was there with the dawn, gently shaking me awake.

At least I thought it was dawn. The skies were gray and sad, and the world felt damp and clammy, as if the land itself was mourning what was to come.

We hurriedly ate the leftovers from the night before and repacked my few possessions.

Before Gawain wrapped up my Saxon box, I took out a leather and stone medallion that hung from a leather cord. I slipped the necklace over my head.

"What is that?" he asked.

I started to braid my long hair tightly into a single tail. "Good luck charm." I tied off the braid and moved to put on my boots. "Not that I believe in luck, but it's a piece of my mother, to keep her close as I leave my homeland." I donned my cloak over my gathering bags and looked at him. "I am ready."

Our combined possessions were loaded onto the back of a packhorse, the reigns of which I held from my seat behind Gawain as we joined the caravan that was winding its way further South, to the sea.

Galahad rode beside us, the rest of the Knights around us. We could see Arthur on the hill above the road, watching us leave.

Suddenly, Bors rode away from the caravan a ways and shouted the war cry of the Sarmation knights, his arm raised in salute.

Arthur returned it and the giant of a man rode back to the caravan, satisfied. Their former commander was still one of them, though he stayed behind to ensure our escape.

At first, spirits were lifted by this, but no matter how far we rode, we could still hear the Saxon war drums.

A restlessness descended on the knights and they began to exchange glances. I sensed that they wanted to go back. All of them. Even Galahad, who had wanted the most to return to his homeland.

The Saxon drums were carrying on the wind and spooked the horses. It took several minutes for the knights to calm them.

Bors looked to his family, as Gawain looked over at his shoulder at me, silently asking my permission.

To answer him, I took off my necklace and put it over his head.

Before he could ask what I was doing, I kissed him, long and hard. "Go." I said, when we parted for breath. "Do what you must, but come back to me." I slid from the back of the horse before he could stop me. "I will wait until it is safe for me to come and patch up the lot of you when you are finished saving our lives."

A ripple of laughter made its way through the knights.

We halted the caravan and the knights began readying for battle.

I helped Gawain adjust his brother's armor, then Galahad helped me with Gawain's.

All around us, the people were helping the other knights into their armor.

Gawain kissed me one last time before he rode away with his fellow knights.

I shed no tears. _"Be with them, Father, God. Please keep them safe, and bring him back to me!"_

Most of the men from the liberated village and the men folk of the fort began to arm themselves before following the knights.

I found that the women and children were looking to me.

With their help, we soon had most of the caravan turned around and as close to the fortress as I dared to go until the battle was over.

She sent a prayer after the rest of the people who had continued on, seeking to escape Britannia, especially Urelia and Alecto.

Lucan had attached himself to Bors' family, rounding out the number of children to twelve.

I began directing the set up of tents for shelter and to triage the wounded.

"How do you know they won't all be slaughtered, and us after them?" one of the women asked.

I offered her a sad smile. "I do not know what gives me the assurance that we will be victorious, except that it was placed in my heart by God. Pray with me and perhaps He will comfort you as well."

Those that would, joined me in prayer and when the sounds of the drums and battle carried over the hill to us, I led them all in song to drown them out.

When the sounds died away hours later, one young man could stand it no longer. "Let us take a wagon and see what is going on. Perhaps we can start bringing back some of the wounded."

His mother was about to protest, until I agreed with him. "But only if we are careful. We will go and see how things stand with our men."


	7. Chapter 7 Rebuild

******Chapter seven has been completed in the new style.**

**This is as close to a Mary Sue as I've ever published. And this is probably as far as I'll go.**

**I don't own any of the characters except my own. Yadda, Yadda, so don't sue my penniless self!**

**Chapter 7: Rebuild**

Tar fires had been set in the battle field at Arthur's orders before we left and the smoke was still rolling, black and thick, screening the carnage from view, but not from the other senses. Men groaned in pain, Wode women sent up eerie, mournful cries, the smells of blood and sweat and leather mingled with the smoke.

My stomach turned over, but I refused to let myself get sick, I was determined to be strong. I drew a deep breath and began to carefully descend the hill on my crutches, the women following me onto the field of battle.

Once we were below the smoke screen, we could see the results of warfare. _"Father, so many souls lost to you! Such a waste,"_ my mind cried out as I walked among the bodies, most of which were Saxons, for the Wodes and the villagers who survived the battle, had already begun to collect their dead and wounded.

I did not see one of the dead bodies twitch as I stopped beside it to try to get my bearings. I shrieked when a hand shot out and grabbed my ankle in a vise-like grip and toppled me onto the muddy, blood soaked ground.

Pain shot through my knees when I landed and I cried out again.

The barbarian's blue eyes pierced my soul as he clung to life. Then a blade flashed. I shrieked again and covered my face with my arms. He knew he was dead and he was determined to take me with him.

A sword whistled through the air and the grip on my ankle loosened.

I looked up to see the young man who had determined to find his father, panting, his face twisted into a mask of hate and confusion. He was staring down at the headless Saxon.

"_Oh, Father! How quickly this world turns them into men!"_ I thought. "Are you alright?" I asked him, touching his wrist lightly.

He turned to look at me and nodded. "I had to, Milady. He wanted to take you with him to the underworld. I had to."

"I know, I know, and I thank you. I am just sorry you were put in this situation." I tried to comfort him.

"Will God forgive me?"

"I think if you ask Him, He will. He knows your heart and he knows that you were saving me."

He nodded, then helped me to my feet.

"Be careful!" I called back to the people that followed. "Some may still be alive and if they get the chance, they will try to kill you."

The young man refused to leave my side as we continued to search. "I will protect you and help you until we find your knight. My mother can find my father."

"And who will protect your mother?" I asked him.

He pondered a moment, then turned to look at his mother. "She is with others. You have no one until we find Sir Gawain."

I fought back tears. "What is your name?"

"Kae. Milady."

"Thank you, Kae."

Over the young man's shoulder, a parting of the smoke, caused by a change in the wind, allowed me to spot Arthur and Guinevere kneeling by a prone form.

My feet felt like lead as I tried to move forward, my fears for Gawain finally finding root. As we neared them, I saw that it was Lancelot that had fallen.

I was ashamed of my relief.

Arthur threw back his head and wept to the smoky skies. "It was my life to be taken!" He cried. "Not this! Never this!"

I shivered despite the heat coming from the tar fires and wrapped my arms around herself as best I could without losing the crutches.

The Roman leader exchanged pained looks with Guinevere, who looked as if she wanted to say something to comfort him, but no sound came from her throat.

Another sound drew my attention as three more knights trudged toward the sad little group.

Bors had a body over has shoulder and Galahad hurried to help him lower it.

I held my breath until she saw the tattooed face. It was Tristan. Sorrow and relief knifed through me again, along with the guilt of my selfishness. _But where is he, Father?_

A cough made me look up into his blue eyes. He was leaning heavily on a broken spear shaft.

I cried out and dropped my crutches in my rush to reach him.

He sighed into my hair as he wrapped his free arm around my shaking shoulders.

We leaned on each other for several minutes, until Kae came to us with my crutches.

All eyes turned to Arthur, his voice cracking with anguish. "My brave knights, I've failed you. I neither took you off this island, nor shared your fate."

An outraged cry in another language made us all look up.

We had not heard the approach of the Wode leader, Merlin. He walked forward with a purpose until he had reached the little group. He stopped before each of us, including Guinevere, Kae, and I, making strange noises quietly to himself. He came to Arthur last, still kneeling over Lancelot's body. The Wode leader's voice took on the tone of a disappointed teacher as he tapped the side of the Roman's chin with the back of his hand. "No fate is shared." He turned and met everyone's eyes again as he spoke louder. "No fate is shared!" With nothing more to say, he turned and walked away, as silently as he had come.

I was the first to shake off the feeling of melancholy that had us all frozen. "I must tend to the wounded."

This statement set them all in motion. Arthur began directing the clean up of the field.

The wounded were carried into the fortress, where I and the other women could tend them, while the dead were taken to a building to the side to be prepared for burial.

All but one of the tar fires were put out and the dead Saxons were piled onto it to be consumed by the flames.

Kae would not leave my side side until I was safely in the Roman fortress, he said it was because he saw that Gawain was wounded. Once I was was busy tending others, he was about to leave when Gawain beckoned him over.

"I wanted to thank you for looking after her for me. She told me what happened. You are a brave, lad."

He flushed from the praise and mumbled, "You're welcome, Sir Gawain."

"Do you think you would like to become a Knight?" Gawain asked.

He nodded vigorously, too excited to speak.

"Help around the place, and take care of your family first, then come to me in a few days and I will present you to Arthur. If you are accepted, you will be my squire, my apprentice, so to speak."

Kae bowed. "Thank you, Sir Gawain!"

"No, Kae, this is my thanks to you. Now go see to things."

He nodded again and hurried off.

I smiled at Gawain and mouthed, "Thank you."

He smiled back.

Arthur came in and began helping us tend some of the wounded.

There was a stir at the door and I hobbled over to direct the placement of the wounded, but they wanted to see Arthur. As I was about to turn away to call him, I saw the body that they bore.

With a little cry, my knees gave out and the tears I had been holding back, flooded down my face.

"Sir, this Briton was found on the North side of the gate, under the large tree by the road. We were unaware of any of ours being on that side." one of the men explained.

"That is the turncoat scout who was helping them!" the Roman commander growled. "Burn his body with theirs!"

A loud sob escaped my throat, as Gawain made his way to me. "Why, why, why?" I whispered, over and over.

"Bree?" Gawain threw himself to the floor beside me. "Are you alright? What happened?"

I looked up at him. I felt hollow. "Why?" I asked again. "Why did he do it?"

"Who did what, Bree?" Arthur sounded confused.

"That is her brother." Gawain said, looking at the door, his arms around me.

"I thought I had come to terms with it, Gawain. I knew what he had done and had decided to cut him out of the rest of my life. I thought I had accepted that he was gone, dead to me."

Gawain shifted to block my view of the door, while Arthur moved away and spoke quietly to the men before returning and helping both of us to our feet and to a cot so we could sit.

"But Bree, that doesn't change the fact that you love him. He was your brother. And seeing him actually dead is a far cry from just cutting him off from the rest of your life." Gawain said.

"Yes, Bree." Arthur agreed. "It is okay to grieve him. It is late in the night and you have not rested or eaten in hours. You have done enough for now."

"But-"

"Let the others tend to things for a while." Arthur said, soothingly. "Come with me. You can return later."

I reluctantly let him lead me away as Gawain lay back on the cot.

The next thing I knew, someone was washing the blood from my hands, arms and face. I was directed to sit down and food was put in front of me. I ate it as if by habit and at others urging, not out of any hunger I felt.

When I finished, I was allowed to return to Gawain.

He was asleep when I arrived, so I sat on a stool by his side. At some point I must have leaned over and fallen asleep myself, for I awoke to his rough, battle calloused hands were gently clasping my smaller, softer ones. "I have to tell you something, Bree."

I sat up and nodded for him to go on.

"I met God out there on that field. He showed me how much I needed him. He showed me, through your words and prayers that I don't have to carry the burdens of what I've done. He took them away from me, Bree. He set me free; truly free, so that I could take care of you without the baggage of my guilt. I wanted you to know that, and when things are not so busy, I would like you to tell me more about Him, and this time, I promise I will listen."

Joy flooded my heart, almost to the exclusion of the grief. "Thank you, Father!" I whispered to the ceiling, then to Gawain, "I would be happy to!" Laughing and crying at the same time, I flung myself onto him.

He held me tight against his chest, until I started to drift off to sleep again, then he pulled me onto the cot with him and wrapped his blanket around me. I did not wake until morning.

After a quick breakfast, both of us on crutches now, joined others trudging up Badon Hill for more funerals.

No one spoke as Lancelot's body was burned, fulfilling is wishes, we were informed by Arthur. The winds carried away his ashes.

Nor were any words spoken over Tristan.

I supposed that there was nothing left to say except farewell.

There were other funerals all over the hill, and once they were finished, the knights and those that followed us stopped at a few of the others to share the people's grief.

Finally, as the morning approached noon, the knights led me to a secluded place, not among the Britons who had fallen in the battle, but still on the hill, still in the cemetery. A grave digger waited for us, standing near a shrouded body.

"We can not give him a place of honor, Bree, but you deserve a place to mourn your brother." Arthur informed me quietly.

Guinevere helped Gawain support me as I cried and watched my brother's body be buried.

Once the mound had been tapped down over Abelard, Bors stepped forward and kissed me on the forehead, as he would one of his daughters, before quietly leaving.

Galahad did the same.

Then Arthur.

I managed to grip his shirt before he could turn away. "Thank you." I whispered.

"You are welcome." Then he and Guinevere left.

Gawain and I leaned on each other, until I was able to bring my tears under control. "I have to get back to the infirmary."

"You can take all the time you need." he protested.

"He's not going anywhere." I replied and pointed to the fresh grave. "But some of the injured don't have the time for me to spend here just now." I touched his cheek and looked deeply into his eyes. "I will return, and I will allow my heart to grieve until it is finished, but now is not the time."

He nodded and together we hobbled and limped back.

I threw myself into my craft, praying as I worked that God would spare those I tended. Most were saved. A few were beyond my skill and I mourned them along with Abelard on my daily visits to Badon Hill, until the cold of winter caused my knees to ache and forced me to remain indoors.

Kae came to Gawain, who true to his word, petitioned his case to Arthur. The young man was approved and became Gawain's squire, thereby also providing for his family.

The Wodes helped us to gather what wild food we could, since so much of our harvest had been destroyed by the Saxons.

Winter descended upon us with the last of the Northern refugees that made their way to the fort. The winds howled and the snow piled against the stone walls. It was a long, difficult season, but we were determined to survive and begin again.

As Winter Solstice approached, it was apparent that I had been spared the difficulties of a child by the "monks", so I told Gawain that I was ready whenever he was to wed.

Arthur wed us on Solstice night as part of the festivities.

As winter began to loose its grip on the land, and spring began creeping it's way back into Briton, it became increasingly obvious by the size of my growing belly, that the Lord had blessed the union.

We began to prepare the land for a new year of planting, hoping to receive a similar blessing with their harvest.

When Merlin returned and asked Arthur to join him on the seashore, the knights and most of the people followed.

Arthur and Guinevere were wed in the middle of a circle of standing stones, on a hill overlooking the sea, as the people gathered around to watch.

Merlin handed Guinevere a cup of wine. She sipped from it, then offered it to Arthur. After he had also sipped from it and the Wode leader had called down a blessing in his own tongue, he spoke to them, a smile in his voice, though hidden under his beard. "Arthur. Guinevere. Our people are one. As you are."

We cheered and I felt my child jump within me. I was so happy.

Then I noticed Bors lift his youngest child, which he'd been holding throughout the ceremony, to his eye level and heard him say to it over the crowd, in a resigned voice, "Now I'm _really_ gonna' have to marry your mother."

The woman's eyes flashed and she snatched the baby from him. "Who said I'd have you?"

Properly, chastised, the giant of a man stood there looking sheepish.

I could not help it. I laughed.

"King Arthur!" Merlin cried.

"Hail, Arthur!" we called back before kneeling before our king and queen.

"Let every man, woman, child bear witness," the former Roman began. "That from this day all Britons will be united under one common cause." He drew his sword with a ring of steel and the people began to chant his name.

I silently prayed that the Lord would bless the king and queen, and us, their people, as the little life inside of me continued to stir, excited by celebrations outside of the womb. I laid a hand gently against the swell of my stomach and smiled.

I knew that I had been blessed, and that in the midst of tragedy He had sent me a miracle.

Standing still in the midst of the crowding, cheering people, I silently thanked God for all that He had done.


End file.
